#1 Demon of Darkness

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Edited version
⚠️(This book is under editing) ⚠️

Blume Nightclub – VIP Lounge

The VIP lounge of Blume Nightclub was drenched in a haze of cigar smoke and the muted glow of overhead chandeliers. The air was thick with tension, an unspoken challenge lurking beneath the polished surface of the gathering.

At the center of it all sat seven of the city’s most powerful crime lords, men who had ruled the underground long before the name Jeon Jungkook became legend. Yet, despite their status, they weren’t the ones in control tonight.

They were waiting for him.

Seated in a semi-circle around a sleek glass table, their postures ranged from feigned ease to quiet impatience. Some nursed glasses of top-shelf whiskey, others tapped their fingers against leather armrests, their gazes darting toward the heavy, locked doors.

The most impatient of the group, Mr. Yang, exhaled slowly, setting his drink down with a quiet clink. “How much longer are we expected to wait?” His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. A challenge.

Beside him, Kang Dae-hyun, a cartel leader known for running the biggest drug operations on the East Coast, smirked. “Jeon may be feared, but he forgets that we’re not his men.”

Taehyung, standing lazily near the bar, swirled the liquor in his glass. He chuckled, low and dangerous. “That’s cute,” he murmured. “You think Jungkook actually cares what you lot think?”

Yang’s expression tightened. “You’d do well to watch your tongue, Kim.”

Taehyung’s smirk widened, but he said nothing. He didn’t have to. Because the air shifted.

And then—

The doors swung open.

Silence fell.

A shadow loomed in the entrance.

And then, with measured steps, Jeon Jungkook walked in.

Dressed in a tailored black trench coat, a single black leather glove on his right hand, and his signature mask covering the lower half of his face, he was a vision of quiet devastation.

His presence alone suffocated the room.

Everyone who had been talking moments ago now sat still.

Jungkook moved with the precision of a predator, his boots making a deliberate click against the marble floors. He didn’t spare anyone a glance, his gaze cold as he approached the head of the table.

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